Everything Changes
by MadJezebel
Summary: A look into the Joker's past and the person he once was before he became the notorious villian. While being held captive, will Rachel be able to see the man behind the mask, or is he truly a creature past the point of redemption?
1. No Sleep to the Wicked

**A/N: Like many, many other people, I was absolutely fascinated with the Joker – particularly the way Heath portrayed him in TDK. I wanted to know more about his past, but I also wanted more interaction between him and others in the present, thus – flashbacks! And for those who think "The Joker could never be like this" or "the Joker would never do that" – remember that the person he use to be could have been entirely different, and so he is in this story (although definitely heading down the path to destruction). If you go to PopCritics and search for "heath scars," you can see a pic of him with the scars minus the joker makeup. That's where I got my inspiration! There will also be a little bit of Joker/Rachel later on, but not in a fluffy way…at least I don't think!**

**Chapter One**

For some inhabitants of Gotham City, nighttime was not just a hollow space of a day, but rather a way of life. It was a time when criminals thrived in their sins, scores were settled, debtors were reprimanded, and those masked vigilantes who challenged the balance of justice waged a nightly battle between good and evil. It was just such a man, or creature, of the night, who would retire to his lofty penthouse with only the scars and fatigue to show for his unusual, "extracurricular" activities. He could rest his head upon the finest of imported Persian linen and drift off to sleep in the early morning hours with the notion that he had won a small battle in an ongoing war for Gotham's soul. True – some of his actions had arisen as questionable in the eyes of the authorities, but Bruce Wayne told himself it was for the greater good. The division between right and wrong had become too fuzzy with only the Gotham City Police Deparment for them to properly protect its citizens, and it was up to the Batman to redefine those lines. He was the good guy, the hero, the saviour of Gotham. Yes, people like Bruce were entirely merited in their slumber, But for one other individual in particular, sleep was much more elusive - and for good reason…

The stagnant air in the tiny Gotham flat forced beads of sweat to form on the man-known-as-the-Joker's forehead. Streaks of white melted down the sides of his face and stained the dingy cot mattress his tall frame was rested upon. He cursed under his breath at the realization that switching on the two-speed fan that rested next to him didn't seem to alleviate his discomfort very much, and he slammed one foot against the wall in disgust. A high-pitched squeaking caught his attention in the corner of the room, followed by frantic scratching against the floorboards. The paint puckered and creased on his face as his brow furrowed in displeasure. He sat up quickly and began scanning the darkness for the culprit – a rat that had claimed residency long before its current human occupant.

"Ah-hah!" The Joker exclaimed with devilish glee. Reaching forward, he grabbed a small dagger that had been stashed in his boot and deftly launched it deep into the filthy rodent, pinning it's squealing body to the wall before it fell silent and still.

"Gotcha – little bastard. Nothing personal, though." The springs screeched loudly as he fell back against the cot with a thud. The dark makeup around his bloodshot eyes concealed deep hollows that came from many sleepless nights. His eyes fluttered for a moment as he fought back sleep that was trying so hard to overtake him. He had been resolute in his alertness for quite a while now, but it was beginning to become clear that three days without sleep was his breaking point – even for a deranged felon like himself. _Another flutter. _He shook his head and slapped his cheek roughly to keep focused.

"Come _on!" _he growled lowly to himself. The gentle whir of the fan was becoming hypnotic, however, and he soon found himself slowly falling into that sweet, heady darkness that enveloped him head to toe. _Damn, damn, damn! _He thought to himself. Dreams to him were always nightmares because he could not manipulate fact as he so often did in real life. It was not only sleep that wanted to overtake him, but also his former self who tortured him with painful truths and bittersweet memories. Truths he did not want to ever admit to himself. His tongue traced his lips in habit before he finally gave in completely and allowed the memories to come flooding back – just as they always did.

"_Jack?" A woman's voice calls down the hallway. Silence follows. "Jack!"_

"_Jack!?" The voice summons again, this time with a profound sense of urgency in her tone. "Jack, come here! Hurry! HURRY!" The moment the cries were heard, the command was met by rapid footsteps that shook the tiny apartment like the Gotham earthquake of '94. _

"_What? What is it?" He shouted back as he approached the source of distress. Jack Napier's throat tightened and his heart began beating wildly as he came upon his wife leaning with one hand against the bathroom sink, the other resting on her 6-month-pregnant belly. She stood with her back towards him, her shoulders hunched forward slightly as if she were struggling to regain her balance. He had found her like this many times before – each time leading to another painful stint in Gotham City General, another complication, another heartache. The fear that this was just such another incident momentarily held him fast where he stood. The bathroom was in fact so small, the sink, toilet, and shower were all within two feet of each other, so in only two backwards steps, Jeannie rested herself on the side of the tub with a deep outward breath. Upon sensing her husband's presence in the door frame, she turned towards him._

_The look of dread that was so painfully present on Jack's face soon melted into confusion as Jeannie lifted her angelic face to reveal a brilliant smile and large blue eyes that glistened with tears of joy. With an awkward snort of a laugh, Jack rushed towards his wife, sitting himself on the toilet in front of her and cupping her face in his hands. His mouth was dry, and he wetted his lips repeatedly with his tongue before he could speak. Moments like these made the scars that crept up from the corner of his mouth seem tighter than ever. Bloody Glasgow smile._

"_Look at me. Tell-tell me what's wrong." He said quietly but firmly through another swipe of his tongue, gently brushing back the dark hairs that fell over her rosy cheeks. Jeannie's smile grew even wider as she grabbed the back of one of his hands and redirected it to the apex of her belly. A single tear fell down the side of her face as she answered, and she pressed him closer to her, guiding his fingers to the right spot. "I felt him! I felt him move! I was just washing my face when I felt something inside…it's the first time since…well, since before the hospital. See!"_

_Jeannie stopped abruptly, sitting up tall, and stilling his hand. "Can you feel him? Strong little thing, too."_

_It took a moment for Jack to concentrate and what he was being asked to feel, since he was in such awe of his beautiful wife's expression of complete and utter delight. Then the flutter came from underneath his palm, triggering a smile that forced his ghastly scars upwards. But for once, those constant reminders of his own father were the last things on his mind. _

"_Wow. Jeannie…" He mouthed, placing both hands above their unborn child and taking a ragged sigh of relief. _

"_Yeah…wow." Jeannie sniffed. She was at a complete loss for words. For weeks since the accident the baby had been still, and the doctors had feared the worst. Such a sign of life sent a flood of emotions over her. _

"_And to see you smile again. You're always so worried for me – for the baby." She rested her hand on his face paled by years of factory work under the cloak of Gotham's darkness. His scars never bothered her, although she knew her husband did not always believe it when she told him so. When she began to sob quietly, Jack pulled her close to his chest, stroking her hair and kissing her forehead as he spoke to her softly. Jeannie clung tightly to his ratty plaid jacket and allowed herself to melt into his comforting words, even if he was saying it more to convince himself. _

"_We're going to be okay. I'm working on a way for it all to be okay."_

_There was silence for a moment as she pulled herself away from his warmth and looked deeply into his eyes with trepidation, shaking her head slowly. "God, Jack – please don't tell me you're going to get involved with them again. I thought we agreed. You promised me last time was it. You don't mess with these people. If you get too far into this…"_

_Jack stood up quickly and turned away, running his hands through his hair that hadn't seen scissors for quite some time and clasping them behind his head. "I don't have a choice. We need the money. Everything is taken care of."_

_Jeannie got up as well, placing her hands on his sides. "Please, Jack. I'm begging you. Don't do this. We'll find another way."_

"_NO! And that's final!" He roared as he slapped her hands away, his tone making Jeannie jump back slightly. It was quiet for a few agonizing moments, and Jack lowered his eyes so he did not have to see the new tears that were forming in his wife's eyes. These, however, were not tears of joy. She bit her lip in an effort to conceal her pain. _

_His voice became softer and gentler as he reached for her hand. "I'm sorry. I…" Another lick of the lips before he could continue. "You don't know what it's like for me. You don't know what it's like to be a – joke – to be a considered a cheap, expendable function in a game I know I was born to run." Jack's hand ran up the length of her arms and rested on her shoulders. "You have to trust me. You have to give me the chance to take care of you – and the baby. Can you do that?"_

_A muscle in his jaw clenched as he waited. Being that her husband was much taller than she was, Jeannie had to pull gently forward on the breast of his jacket to bring him close to kiss. That was all the answer that he needed. He eagerly reciprocated the gesture, pulling her as close as possible at this point in her pregnancy and engulfed her mouth with his own. He could still taste the saltiness of her tears, and vowed from that moment on he would never again make her cry. After a few moments, Jack reluctantly pulled away, pushing his forehead against hers as he held her face in his hands. Jeannie sniffled quietly as his mouth grazed her ear._

"_I love you. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."_

This was always the moment where the first dream ended and the rest of the nightmares began. The Joker awoke abruptly, taking a moment to adjust to his surroundings and realize what he had experienced was indeed real, yet far behind this realm of time. He sat up on the cot, his face a blank canvas void of any expression despite the makeup that covered it. Swallowing hard, he turned his head slowly towards the opposite end of what use to be a quaint living room. His mind became transfixed on a single empty spot on the floor, and he began licking his lips repeatedly. It was his punishment for making a deal with the devil, he believed, that God had engrained every single detail about what happened there in his memory. He silently cursed God, cursed the world, cursed Batman, but mostly – himself for letting it all happen in the first place…


	2. A Hideous Reflection

Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Although he did not know it at the time, it was almost two in the morning when a loud banging sounded from behind the Joker's bedroom door. His jaw clenched in annoyance even though he knew deep inside that he was more than happy to be drawn away from his drunken reverie.

"What is it?" he growled, sitting up on the bed and touching ear to shoulder on both sides to achieve a sharp _crack. _His eyes slowly rolled upwards as the door opened, a tunnel of light from the hallway eerily illuminating his sinister features. There was a brief shuffle before the source of the interruption presented itself. The nervous young man standing in the entryway swore to himself it was the devil-incarnate glaring back at him. The Joker snatched the glass of vodka that rested beside him and greedily threw back its contents with one swift glide of the hand, clenching his eyes tightly as he slammed the empty tumbler back on the table. The boy in front of him, not a year over twenty, wrung his sweaty hands together as he stumbled over what he came to say.

"I'm s-sorry to bother you, sir…it's just that I thought you should know that I gave Miss Dawes the letter just like you told me too."

"And she bought it?" The Joker asked, using a sleeve to wipe any residual liquor off his crimson-stained mouth.

"Y-yes, sir. I believe so – I mean, yes...definitely_._ I was there when she read it. Didn't question me at all when I told her it was from Mr. Wayne. She got all upset and left in a hurry."

"Good, good." He said quietly as he reached for the bottle of vodka to pour himself another round. The boy remained staring at his employer, still wringing his hands as he wrestled in his mind whether or not to continue. " And you are still here, _because…?"_

A large lump traveled down the young man's throat before the first few words came out an octave higher than usual. "Well, sir…the-the money you promised, remember?"

The glass emptied into his throat – that tongue tracing and moistening the contours of his scars. "Ahhhh, yes!" he exclaimed with theatrical excitement. "My, my! How could I possibly forget such a detail? Let's see…let me just grab my purse…"

At the last word, the Joker lunged at the boy within three hunched strides, pulling a knife from his breast pocket and forcing it beneath his trembling Adam's apple. Pushed against the wall and half the size of his opponent, the kid was helpless. He started to sputter and cry as he felt the newly sharpened blade draw a prick of blood on his neck. With one hand grasped firmly in the boy's greasy black mane, the Joker drew his face only inches away, licking his lips. His putrid breath, magnified by years of alcohol use and poor oral hygiene made the boy's nostrils sting.

"Oh, now, shh, shh, shh." He cooed. "Look at me! Where are my manners? I can't even remember you name. What is your name, friend?"

The boy continued to shake, closing his eyes so he would not have to look the monster fully in the face. The Joker's sarcastic tone snapped dramatically.

"Look at me. Looook at meeeee. LOOK AT ME!" He growled finally, squeezing the cheeks of his prey so tight it forced the boy's eyes to shoot open out of pure reflex. The intensity relaxed for a moment as he calmly stroked his right cheek, then the left with the back of his hand. The boy stiffened even more, however, when the Joker removed the knife from his neck and began tracing the blade lightly along his jaw line "Now," He asked simply. "Remind me your name."

"It's B-Brian. Brian!" He cried pathetically. "Just don't kill me, please! I'm begging you, man! Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. "

The Joker rolled his eyes up in contemplation. "Well, you see, _Brian. _That's where we might have a little problem. You see – I hurt people. You can say it's what I do for a living. I'm not a '_good guy'." _Two fingers made quotations in the air. "I don't '_play by the rules'." _He repeated the finger gesture.

"I have _deep…seeded_ emotional problems." With each word, the knife pushed a little deeper into Brian's stubbly cheek.

"Oh, God, man!" he whimpered, trying desperately to squirm away from this heinous villain's grasp. "Please! I'm too young to die!"

The Joker pulled back slightly in mock surprise. "Oh, come now, Brian. We aren't being honest with ourselves here, are we? You're a smart kid. Did you really think I was going to just let you walk out of here with the knowledge you have _plus _a pile of my hard-stolen greenbacks? Hmmm? Now, does that really make sense to you? Hmmm? Answer me."

A string of mucus started to come out of Brian's nose as he cried even more. "Ah, come on! People do a lot of crazy shit when they need money. You got to believe me, man. I won't say a thing to nobody."

Any hint of playfulness on the Joker's face rapidly faded at the words of this blubbering moron. The knife was returned to his victim's neck.

"Oh, you're right there, buckaroo. But I have to say, not everyone has it as grand as you do. I mean – a swift cut right to the jugular vein?" The knife inched its way a few centimeters to the side. Brian trembled and squeezed his eyes shut in dreaded anticipation. "So quick, so…_easy. _The pain goes away in a matter of seconds and you just…" His hand fluttered above his head momentarily. "Drift off to sleep."

The Joker licked his lips and pulled the boy even closer. "You die knowing you made one _hell _of a mistake, but thinking to yourself… 'Boy! At least that's over!' You die without another care in the world – go down in history as just another poor, innocent youngster of sucked into the snares of one of Gotham's most notorious criminals. Yes…you will just drift off to sleep. Go to heaven or hell, or wherever you _feel _you belong. A beautiful, simple, physical death."

Brian could feel the Joker's grip tighten behind his head. He could also feel the anger and wickedness begin to boil and erupt through his captors words as he continued. Each phrase grew louder than the last. "How wonderful it must be to just have everything ended for you in one…quick…slice. To not have to stand by and watch the one thing you truly love in this world be ripped away from you – for that person to be defiled and made to suffer in a way you could never possibly imagine."

There was a brief moment of silence between both men. The Joker's tone became much more somber and silent. "Do you know why men fear me so much? Hmmm? Have you figured that out yet, kiddo?"

Brian shook his head quickly, loosening tears that fell down his cheeks. He could feel teeth of the blade twice as much as he swallowed hard. "No."

The Joker rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. "Okay, then, I'll tell you. You see, people are so scared of me because of have no fear myself, and do you know why that is?"

The response was a silent shake of the head.

"_Errrrrrrr" _The Joker buzzed with his voice. "Wrong answer. I have no fear because – now listen closely… I am already dead!" A high-pitched, cackling laugh ensued that terrified Brian even more. "Yes, I died eight years ago." He gave a slight notion of the head over his shoulder. "In this very room, in fact."

Brian remained silent, and he was unsure if it was fear that paralyzed his voice or the cold press of the blade against his throat.

"What I would have given to be in your shoes on that day – to be able to just…die – for her to be spared all that pain."

A look of confusion passed over Brian's face. He tried his pleas one final time. "Please – _please, _just let me go. Let me go…"

The Joker's face stilled then slowly grew into a large, sinister grin. "Well…I guess I am feeling generous today, and you are such a good-looking kid, _soooo…"_

Brian's face relaxed with more relief than he had ever felt in his short lifetime. "Oh, thank y- " But Brian's final word could not be formed because at that very moment, the Joker let his hand stroke that critical vein with impressive dexterity, his facial muscles barely flinching as he let the young man's body drop lifelessly from his arms to the grown below. Slowly removing a white handkerchief from his pocket, he raised the blade to wipe it clean before returning it to his jacket pocket. There was a small, partially shattered mirror a few feet away that he walked towards, stepping lightly as to not soil his shoes in the blood that began to pool beside his latest victim. When he reached it, he took a deep breath, licked his lips, and tried in vain to smooth the ragged mass of tinted hair on top of his head.

He had to at least _try _to look presentable, however. After all…he had a date.

_**Rachel…**_

_**You're not safe there. The Joker has Harvey and he will be after you next. Meet me at 216 Market, apt. 901 as soon as you can. Please do this one thing for me, Rach. Let me protect you. Gotham won't be safe if he makes me choose between you and the city. I will always choose you.**_

_**Bruce**_


End file.
